


Exist With Me

by TeaCoffeeQastre



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Colorblind GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff and Angst, GeorgeNotFound is Not Colorblind (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, King Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Knight GeorgeNotFound, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaCoffeeQastre/pseuds/TeaCoffeeQastre
Summary: Prince Clay almost died protecting his guard. Because he was too attached. Too attached to George.And George. He almost lost Dream because Dream loved him, and George would never forgive himself for that. He never wanted it to happen again.“I failed him.” Muttered so softly, he wondered if Sapnap even heard him.“Talk to him,” Sapnap says again, softer now. “Please. He needs to know that you don’t hate him.”How do you tell the person you love why you wanted them to hate you?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 105





	Exist With Me

**Author's Note:**

> George is STILL colorblind, but you know how different emotions/moment in life make you feel a type of color.

George let out a soft breath, trying to count the number of fish swimming in the brook by the window of his room. Well if he could even call it a room. It was more of an alcove, tucked at the farthest end of the knight’s quarters. _402, 403, 404_. His eyes fell onto a particularly yellow fish caught behind a rock. Too yellow to be yellow. 

He swallowed, burying his face in his hands, shoving his palms against his eyes until yellow ignited to an array of different colors. A stupid fish. A fucking fish. _404\. 404. 404._ He needed a new distraction. One where his traitorous mind wouldn’t be able to conjure thoughts of Dream. 

_You never call me Dream now._

That’s right. Colors blurred into white as he opened his eyes again, ignoring the spark of yearning in his heart for that familiar yellow. He choked on a bitter laugh, remembering that Dream— _Clay_ ’s favorite color was actually lime green, and not the putrid yellow George always saw on him. 

To George, he was Clay now. He was always supposed to Clay. But after years of growing up together, the grown man he swore to protect with his life, was still that sun-kissed boy that he remembered laughing and joking with as a child. 

_Only the adults call me Clay. Call me Dream._

Moments of mischief and vulnerability shared between in secret hideouts or on open beaches. All of that cast away into fire the moment the crown touched his head. The overwhelming feeling of the world on his shoulders. That was how Dream described it to him once. When the time arrived for Dream to have a guard on him at all times, he was adamant that he get the choice for himself. And his choice was obvious. Out of everyone, even over Sapnap, who Dream recognized as the best of the recruits, George was chosen. And like the idiot he was, he was as shocked as he was overjoyed. 

_Existing by me, without condition, George._

His world, stained so heavily by blue was suddenly touched by color. At first, it was the liquid gold that ignited in Dream’s eyes when he was heavily in thought. Orange in the sunset the first time Dream decided he wanted to escape the castle and visit the beach for a day. _Apollo, you are the sun in my void._ The pearlescent silver of a sword glimmering in the sunlight when George was forced to entertain Dream with a sparring match. 

Far from black. 

“You always won,” George murmured to himself. Bells tolled faintly outside, growing louder and louder in his head until metal was clanging deafeningly in his head. 

Fire touched the edges of his eyes, his world suddenly going blurry. Setting him ablaze as different memories of Dream ignited on the muted bricks of the wall. He pressed his hand to his mouth, trying to breathe softly through his fingers. 

He remembered purple in the mirror from the circular marks kissed into his neck. 

_Let me serve you, George._

Red. The color itself was almost entirely lost to him, but he felt it in the air once, when Dream was angry with him. Red left scorch marks in the wake of Dream’s steps, lacing his words with a hostility that left George lost and confused. Hurting him more than the new wound on his ribs and the bruises on his face. 

_Please. Just never let yourself get hurt because of me again._

To him, red was almost black.

White. What used to be snow accompanying his birthday and the vanilla frosting accompanying Dream’s, white was now tainted by his most recent memory. Delivered barely two days ago, the letter was sitting on the table next to his bed. He remembered opening it. He remembered crumbling the stupidly expensive paper in his hands, crushing it against the surface of the table. He remembered wiping roughly at his cheeks, tugging painfully at his hair. 

He still felt the withering pain growing in him. 

**_Invitation To The Wedding Of Prince Clay and Prince Fundy._ **

**_George Davidson_ **

**_Your Presence Would Be An Honor To Have At The Ceremony_ **

**_December 6_ **

**_At Beckerson Castle_ **

It was pathetic. But if today was a different day, he would have given the world for Dream not to marry Fundy. To just have Dream again, to be with him and feel him. Feels his hands and his mouth. To be next to him. 

He closed his eyes, letting his tears race onto the bed. It was his fault. 

Black. It was everywhere. The default for the world. And yet, even as he confronted the void behind closed eyes, it was nothing compared to the black in his memory.

The world was not a safe place for a good heart.

It was George’s weakness that brought everything to an end. The woman, Minx, he eventually learned, was just clever enough to get the upper hand on him. And on Dream. The screech of metal on metal dragged him to consciousness. Just in time to put an arrow through Minx’s heart. But not in time to stop the blood. Black against the twilight snow, sticking to the hands George used as paltry patches to stop the rivulets of blood. Dream smiled softly before collapsing into George. He remembered screaming. Crying and begging as he dragged Dream to Bad. 

He remembered the _fear._

Prince Clay almost died protecting his guard. Because he was too attached to his guard. Too attached to George. He almost lost Dream because Dream loved him, and George would never forgive himself for that. He never wanted it to happen again. 

_Dream, hate me. Please hate me._

A good heart was not a place for hatred. Distance from George was only met with stronger attempts by Dream to figure out why he was acting differently. He felt a part of himself wither away every time he cut off Dream’s attempts to mend the bridge that George was too weak to support. 

_George, what the fuck is wrong with you?_

It hurt. 

_George. I’m sorry. Please just tell me how I can fix this._

But the temptation to give in was squashed by the fear of losing him for good. 

_Existing by you, without condition, Dream._

His world was blue again. Not the sky blue that he woke to in the morning. An ashen blue, like the ocean in a storm, dragging at him. Drowning him. 

The bells stopped. He opened his eyes, blinking twice. Bolting upright, he crawled over to the window and looked out towards the castle. Was the wedding finished so early? 

“George?” 

He stiffened and wiped his hands across his face before looking over. It was Sapnap, wearing the new set of armor meant for the wedding. He was assigned to be Dream’s guard for the day. 

“What?” His words left his mouth as a croak, and he cursed at himself. Hopefully his eyes weren’t puffy. 

“Are you and Dream okay?”

“Of course.” Definitely a lie. One that Sapnap would definitely see through. “Clay and I are fine.”

Sapnap snorted, the grinding of metal plates telling George that he was crossing his arms. “Right. As if you ever call him Clay when nothing is wrong. And you ask me to be his guard for the wedding.”

“What do you want, Nick?” 

“And now me, I see how it is.” When George said nothing, he cleared his throat and continued through the awkward silence. “Fundy showed up in the most terrible wedding outfit I ever saw.” 

George sighed, turning his attention to the window once more. His window faced the main branch of the castle. “Is that all?”

“Rude, today. But that’s not the important par—”

“Get to the point,” George called over his shoulder. Sapnap was always the type that provided context to all his stories, turning a five-minute account into thirty minutes of elaborate storytelling. Normally, George never minded. It was a way to pass the time, but right now, he wanted Sapnap out.

“George, will you just look at me?” 

If he craned his neck, it was easy to see the balcony that belonged to Dream. He remembered Dream trying to sail a paper boat from his balcony to George’s window once. The raucous yelling that ensued after Sapnap caught it was enough to have Techno marching in and telling them to shut it. 

“George.”

Dragging his next breath in through clenched teeth, he looked over. “What?”

“Fundy decided not to marry Dream.” 

His heart stopped. “What?” 

Sapnap sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fundy decided—”

“But why?” Was it because of him? Was George at fault again? Was he to blame for interfering?

“Dream was at the altar.” George looked away, remembering Dream in the tailored coat. True gold embellished onto black, his hands decorated with gemstones that matched his eyes. “Looking handsome as ever. And Fundy literally walked in. _Yelled_ across the chapel that he was not going to marry Dream, and walked out.” 

It was always supposed to be a strategic marriage. Or that’s what George wanted it to be in his head. After Tommy, next in line for the throne was Fundy, and his marriage to Dream was supposed to cement an alliance. Purely transactional. And yet George remembered retching into the bushes when he saw the ring on Dream’s table. He remembered the ash clinging to his lungs when he noticed flowers by the window. 

It hit him suddenly. “Sapnap. Why are you here? Where is Dream?” He bit his lip at the knowing look sent his way. "Is he okay?"

“He’s safe.” Sapnap waited, brows raising as if he was expecting something. George stared him down, challenging him. “Talk to him.”

He wanted to. “Why?” 

“George.” His words were laced with anger now, rising in volume for the whole world to hear. “You deserted him! Without telling him why! You stopped sparring with him, stopped going with him to places. George, he thought he failed you! His best friend. All that was left after you was to be a good prince. Wanting to be a good royal is the only reason he even entertained a marriage with L’Manberg and now he feels like he failed the entire world.” 

“I failed him.” Muttered so softly, he wondered if Sapnap even heard him. But Sapnap stopped talking suddenly, watching him warily, his chest rising with each breath. “He almost died because of me.” 

Noiselessness stretches between them, and in his head, George hears the screech of metal again. He blinks it away.

“Talk to him,” Sapnap says again, softer now. “Please. He needs to know that you don’t hate him.” 

* * *

Turns out safe meant nowhere to be found. 

Dream was not in the library like Sapnap said. After sending a frantic Sapnap to search the town with Bad and Skeppy, George walked alone to the far end of the castle where the training grounds were located. With a short huff, he hoisted himself over the low brick wall, wincing slightly as he felt the stone jab against his ribs. 

His feet hit the sand, and for a moment, he relished in the soft wind that whistled through his hair. He looked up, a faint smile tracing onto his face. Dream was sitting in the sand by the water, supported by his hands, legs splayed out in front of him, facing away from George. 

_How do you tell the person you love why you wanted them to hate you?_

“George?”

He blinked, his smile falling as he bit his lip. Dream was looking at him, his expression delicately stoic, betraying nothing.

“Sapnap is looking for you.”

A pause. “I’ll be okay here. You can leave, and tell him not to worry.”

“I’m not leaving.” His words were delivered much more weakly than he intended. It was taking him everything to meet Dream’s intense stare.

His head canted to the side, his brows furrowing. “Why not?” 

Too many answers. It’s now or never. He lets out a soft breath before walking closer to Dream, all too aware of the way yellow eyes follow him. The words are out of his mouth the minute he falls into the sand in front of Dream. 

“Dream. I’m sorry.” His face splits into a smile, a carefree beam that ignites a sun in George’s heart. _Forgive me for flying too closely, but Apollo, you have captured me._

"For what?"

 _For everything_. 

"Fundy."

Dream’s grin fell ever so slightly. If that smile wasn't so permanently ingrained into his brain, George might have missed it. "Are you actually?”

Heat ignites in his face, and George looks away pointedly, ignoring the dryness in his mouth. But he hears it, softly at first, breathy laughter that climbs into a giggling fit followed by a whistling wheeze.

When he stopped, George said, “Of course, Dream.” And despite everything, he means it. A smile stirs onto his face. “I hate seeing you when you’re not happy.”

The lull of the waves settles into the noiseless moment between them, and his eyes move to the sun on the horizon. It was almost setting. _Orange_. He remembers it fondly.

“You called me Dream.”

“You’ll always be Dream to me.” 

“George—”

“I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes. That familiar fear digs into his heart, the void that hangs like a fog in his mind. Broken so suddenly by the memory of blue. The sadness in Dream’s eyes when George tells him that Sapnap is going to be next to him at the wedding. The hurt on his face when George held him at arm’s length the morning after the attempt on his life. 

His world was blue before Dream. And it was blue now, overflowing like an inkwell tipped over, spilling into Dream’s world, _staining_ it.

“I am so sorry for letting you believe that I hated you. For wanting you to hate me.” 

“Hate you?” 

“A part of me hoped that if you hated me, it would be easier to let me die for you. Dream, for God’s sake, I am here to serve you. To protect you. To be your knight.” He’s rambling and he knows, but he just wants Dream to know—needs him to understand. 

When he opens his eyes to look at Dream again, he sees gold. Dream says nothing, his gaze averted to the water, and George takes that moment to just see him. He remembers pressing his lips to the freckles that dust Dream’s face. Hands that are not fit for a prince, lined with scars that eerily matched with George’s. 

“As if hating you would ever be that easy.” 

He says it so easily, and it dawns on George just how stupid he is. As if Dream would ever let others change him so easily. As if George, the George that followed Dream on his escapes from that castle, the George that was so effortlessly beaten in sparring matches, the George who loved him for his goodness, would ever be the one to change his heart. 

It’s freeing. “Oh.” He wonders what he means by that, wonders what Dream hears in just that one word. 

“Nothing’s changed for me.” 

It’s a confession. It was still today, but it was a different day now. George was willing to give him everything. All the colors in the world and more. 

“Nothing for me, either.” 

He yelps as hands suddenly latch onto his wrist, pressing him into the sand. Dream is above him, legs on either side of George’s waist, anchoring him to the shore. The water touches his feet, and he swears for a moment, that the water is warm despite the winter air. He looks up at Dream again, whose smile is bigger than his own, eyes lit with such a soft ferocity that it stokes a familiar fire in his heart. 

Dream lets go of his wrists, and George almost begs for his touch again. But his hands go to cup George’s face, and when he presses his forehead to George's, it feels as if he's going to melt away into ocean.

“Exist with me, without condition.” 

It’s an order, but he hears the question in it. Asking and commanding. As his prince and as his friend. George wants to laugh, but instead his hands trace softly into Dream’s hair, his thumb brushing across bones of Dream’s jaw. He lifts his head just as Dream presses into him, lips meeting halfway. 

He wants to live in this moment.

_Exist with you._

_Without condition._

And he swears. 

For the first time in his life, he sees green. 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that fan art where George is crying in his car, holding an invitation to Dream and Fundy's wedding : https://twitter.com/callistopt/status/1350480096881209346
> 
> Was going for more artsy writing. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Apollo - Greek God of Light 
> 
> -Qastre


End file.
